Take A Deeper Look
by Danger-Doll
Summary: Why doesn't he just leave it well enough alone? Why won't she let anyone in? She doesn't want friends, he won't take no for an answer. I'm a fan of Daseys, but this isn't a Dasey. But still worth a shot, I think.
1. Prolouge

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the show, the characters, just Riley... and any other character that's not from the show.

**Summary:** After moving around her whole life, Riley Carter has learned how to forego the ache of leaving friends behind; she just doesn't make any. But when her dad gets transferred to Canada on business, does she get more than she bargained for in her new school? Derek isn't used to "hot" girls who turn him down and will do his best to change their minds, but is Riley going to be a bigger challenge than he thinks, or is Derek, girl-chasing Mr. Popular, going to be the one person able to break through all her barriers?

So, after some thinking, I decided to take my first chapter and tweak it a little. I just thought it needed a little something. Oh and fyi, I'm into Dasey's and whatnot, but… I just figured it might be time for something a little different. And this was something that I couldn't get out of my head for a very long time.

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It's two o' clock in the morning and I've already lost track of how long I've been staring at my reflection in the mirror. It seems like I should have every inch of my face memorized by now, everything from my dark green eyes, to the tiny mole underneath the right corner of my mouth. The thing is… I haven't actually been looking at my face. I've spent all night trying to look deeper. I've been staring at myself trying to figure out what's inside, why I am the way I am. I've never questioned who I am before and I never thought I would, but here I am, staring at myself in a mirror that won't tell me the answers to my questions.

What is the reason for this, you might ask. What has caused this self-examination? What has made me doubt myself like nothing has been able to before? I'll tell you what. A boy, that's what, one stupid, aggravating, arrogant, self-assured boy. I'm sure you know who he is. He prides himself on his popularity.

His name is Derek. Derek Venturi. That's right, ladies, the one, the only, the _incorrigible_ Derek, well known for his good looks, his hockey skills, and according to most girls at school, his skills in other more "personal" areas. By my calculations, he should have given up by the second day of school. What I didn't predict, though, was that he would be so persistent.

Surely, there is some other girl out there he could badger… Right? Then why am I standing here, staring at myself?

I don't need this. I mean I _really_ don't need this, nor do I want this. It's like nobody has ever said no to him. He is just so used to getting his way that I can't seem to get rid of him.

So, what am I supposed to do now that he knows? I did not intend on letting anyone find out, but Derek being, well Derek, had to go and…

Ugh!

Although, I suppose I should start at the beginning. I mean, that's where most stories generally start, right?

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So, how do you guys like the new and improved opening chapter? Please review, I would really like to know what everyone thinks. And also... does anyone know where the show is set... like the city, because I have no idea. I figure some info like that might come in handy. Any other tidbits of information will be appreciated as well. Thanks. 


	2. My So Called Life

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the show, the characters, just Riley... and any other character that's not from the show.

So, finally, here is the actual first chapter of my story. It's basically an introduction to Riley's life. Eventually, I'll get to the actual moving and the appearance of Derek, which is what I think everyone is waiting for.

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Ch 1.

As I sit on the couch, flipping through the channels on the television, I hear the front door open and close. Moments later, my dad appears in the doorway of the den. He has his coat off and his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow. _How eighties, _I think, almost resentfully. Don't get me wrong, I love my dad. It's just that sometimes…

"I'm home everyone," he shouts. "And I have excellent news." He comes into the living room, and waits until my mother and little brother both appear and sit down. "We're moving." He pauses, waiting for any reaction we would give him. My eyes flicker back to the commercial on the television, my face blank.

I already know that my mom is smiling from ear to ear; she loves to travel. "Wonderful! Where is it this time? Montana? Oh, don't tell me… California?" Her happiness makes her voice rise and resemble the sound of someone dragging their nails along a chalkboard. To my credit, I don't visibly cringe.

"No… We're going to Canada, actually."

"I thought you said we were going to be here for two years," I mumble, not bothering to look away from the television. This is old news for me. We've moved thirteen times in the past sixteen years and I've gotten used to being in a different school nearly every year.

"Well, I finished up with this company a lot earlier than I expected, which is actually a treat because I had expected to have to stay three years fixing all the bugs in their system. However, one glitch turned out to be a sort of trigger for all the rest of the problems. Everything is settled now and running smoothly. So I'm being transferred up to another company in Canada who's been having a lot of problems with their software lately. We'll be leaving in about two months, giving us enough time to find a buyer for the house."

I finally turn from the television to look at my dad. The look on his face screams that he is eager to leave, not that I could blame him. We've been living in the middle of Texas for the past year. Compared to last year's stay in New York, this place is like an oven.

When I say the middle, I mean the middle of nowhere. Some rinky, dink town living off the profits of one giant company, this place is smaller than any place we've been before. With a population of less than five hundred, I ended up being thirtieth in class of sixty. Still I managed to be polite to everyone and maintain a good distance from them at the same time. Thank goodness, however, that school is out and I don't have to deal with the stares and gossip anymore.

Kids don't take too kindly to strangers coming in from nowhere. Especially in little towns, since these kids have known each other forever. It's hard to predict what kind of stories people from different places will come up with, but most of them are similar. In New York, the favorite story revolved around the fact that my dad was some sort of rock star and that I was mute. I guess I didn't help by refusing to talk after hearing the story for the first time.

In McMinnville, Oregon, they used to think my parents were with the government and in Florida, they thought I was an undercover cop that came into the school to track down drug dealers and underage drinking. I never contested the stories; it never seemed worth the trouble.

"Canada? Where's that?" my brother asks, his face the very portrait of innocence. At five years old, he still has a lot to learn about life. I love him to death and I envy his naivety, but I know that eventually he'll grow to see the world as it really is. Not as it's portrayed in his beloved cartoons.

Reaching over, I smooth a hand over his shaggy brown hair. When he looks up at me, I smile. "It's on top of the United States." Seeing the obvious confusion in his eyes, I try to think of an easier way to put it. "The United States is here," I say, raising my hand so my palm was facing him. "And Canada is up here." I put my left hand on top of my right.

"Ohh…" he breathes out, still looking confused. "How far away is it from here, Riley?"

"I'm not sure," I say, wearing a small frown. "But later, I'll show you where it is on the map in my room, okay?"

That answer suffices his curiosity and he nods, turning back to look at my dad. My brother looks remarkably like my dad. They have the same brown hair, same brown eyes, and even the same face shape. His nose, I think, resembles my mom's.

They say that I look like my grandma, my mom's mom. I never actually met her, she died when I was still a baby, but all my relatives say that I have her face, eyes, and hair. The eyes I believe, since I have the family's green eyes that skip a generation. My mom always jokes about being jealous about not being the one who got them. "Well, at least you have my face," she always says, sighing in that wistful sort of way that makes me think she wishes she'd gotten the green eyes instead of me.

The hair, however, I believe I got from my dad. Just plain old dark brown, there's nothing special about it. I usually just let it dry however it wants. The heat around here is dragging it down, though, making it straight and stringy. In order to avoid the blazing heat of, oh so wonderful, Texas I have strategically placed ponytail holders all around the house. Well… actually, I just seem to leave them everywhere. But it still works out.

"Canada… The place where it's always cold?" my mom ponders out loud. She's getting the look she usually gets when she thinks something is a bad idea.

My dad gives her a bland look. "Honey, contrary to your beliefs, people in Canada don't have to wear snow shoes and six layers of clothes all the time." I watch my mom's face as my dad's condescending words begin to take effect. She just sits there, staring at him. There's something in her eyes, something hard, but I'm not quite sure what it is.

My eyes flicker back and forth between both my parents and I wonder what silent argument is occurring between them. These silent stare downs are not anything new either. I'm not sure if I like them though, but I prefer them to the verbal arguments they used to have before my brother was born. The tension in the room is building and I can feel it pushing at me from every which direction.

"When's dinner?" I practically shout, hoping to break the invisible link their eyes have begun to create. "I'm starving."

My mother looks away first and a small smile creeps across my dad's face. No doubt, he takes that as her surrender, which means he has just won. It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless; these small battles are beginning to wear me down.

"I'm cooking dinner now. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. Take Caleb to his room and remind him to wash up before dinner, Riley," my mom recites and then goes into the kitchen leaving my brother and I with my dad.

I look at the television before turning to my dad and handing him the remote. "I'm going to take Caleb to his room and then I'll be in my room. See you at dinner." I take Caleb's hand and then begin to walk out of the room. At the doorway, I stop and turn around. "Congratulations on fixing the system ahead of time," I mumble. I leave before my dad can turn around. I don't want to see the look on his face when he says thanks.

So, after taking Caleb to my room and showing him where Canada was located on my map, I left him in his room playing with a puzzle and returned to my room. As I lay down without bothering to switch on the lights (the setting sun lights my room enough), I begin to think about moving up to Canada.

It would be cold, but I doubt it will always be freezing. Of course, I'll have to take out my coat from the winter clothes box. My dad will probably hire someone to drive our stuff up there. I don't have a passport yet, so that'll have to be made before we leave. Since there's no airport in this town we'll probably have to drive out to the closest town with one.

I yawn and turn so that I'm lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling. _They'll throw another going away party,_ I think to myself. _Dad will invite his coworkers, mom will invite the neighbors, Caleb will invite his friends from school…_ "And I'll sit there and watch," I say out loud, to my empty room.

Thirty-five minutes later, I wake up realizing that I drifted off while thinking about all the people I _wouldn't_ have to be saying goodbye to. Seconds after I sit up, Caleb bursts into my room announcing dinner is ready.

"Okay," I mumble, still groggy. "Go wash your hands and tell mom I'll be right there."

He walks off merrily, singing some song I remember hearing during his cartoons.

Getting off my bed, I walk over to the mirror that sits atop my dresser and look at myself. My hair is a mess and my eyes are bloodshot. I quickly redo my ponytail and head out to the kitchen for dinner.

I stop in the doorway and stare at my family: my dad silently setting cups on the table, my brother sitting in his chair, waiting for food, and my mom animatedly talking while serving the food. These are the only people I've spent my entire life with. They are the only ones who I've had through all these years of moving from home to home, school to school, story to story. This dysfunctional group of people are the ones who know me the best, even if barely at all.

"So long, Nowhere, Texas, hello Somewhere, Canada," I mutter. On a sigh, I push off the doorjamb I've been leaning on and enter the room to join my family for dinner.

There's no meaning  
In clothes and coffee cups  
Cheap hotel furniture  
Where silence never stops  
Through the water  
Through the rain  
To the soul of everything  
Throw my memories to the wind  
And I'm almost gone

David Gray – As I'm Leaving

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Thanks to the two people who reviewed. It meant a lot. So, let me know what you thought of this chapter. Did it suck? Was it alright? Was it missing something? Let me know! And if you happen to know where the heck the show is supposed to be taking place (a.k.a city or whatever) then let me know about that too.


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